SH3 Slaves to the Cause
by Lamby
Summary: Shades of Heroes Series Part 3: Only 3 of the team are left, martial law and curfews have been imposed, and Kincaid will stop at nothing. But he's not the XMen's only problem. AU to X3. Please R and R?
1. Chapter 1

#Shades of Heroes Series Part 3: Only 3 of the team are left, martial law and curfews have been imposed, and Kincaid will stop at nothing. But he's not the X-Men's only problem#

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**A/N:** Howdy, back again with the third in my four part Shades of Heroes series. I guess I should do a brief 'previously' bit, y'know, an introduction, but I'd probably miss a whole chunk of stuff out. Besides I'm sure you're clever enough to catch up pretty quick anyway. Oh, one thing you should know is that this is A/U to X3. So anyway, please have a read, enjoy, and let me know what you think, love Lamby.

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 1**

In his office in Westchester Charles Xavier gazed forlornly out of the open window. He watched the guards menacingly patrol the grounds where children had once ridden ponies and played tig. The collar around his neck was fitted with a neuro-inhibitor that stopped him from using his telepathic powers. He wished right now it did more than that. He wished it would stop him feeling as well. Stop feeling the irritation of the collar as it chafed and blistered the soft flesh of his neck. Stop the despair and disappointment that crushed him, now his dream had turned to dust.

General Kincaid, the madman controlling the operation to crush the X-Men and their mutant kindred, was a frequent visitor to the mansion. Yet he was about as willing to talk sense, to negotiate, as an eagle was to drink nectar like a hummingbird. He had ordered the children attacked. He had refused to listen as Charles had pleaded for them. Charles longed to stop seeing the children being cut down, over and over in his mind's eyes. The collar did nothing but stop his telepathy and chafe his skin until it bled.

They had snuck back here in the middle of the night. Their teachers, the X-Men, had been arrested violently in front of them. They had nowhere to go and no idea how to protect themselves. So a small group of pupils had somehow made their way back here. They had walked across that very lawn, straight into a trap. Charles had been helpless. He saw their disillusionment in their eyes as they were loaded onto a convoy of armoured trucks and driven off to whatever internment camp was closest. If Xavier had known about the trap, why hadn't he warned them with his powers? Why had he let his happen to them? Why was he doing nothing but sitting in his wheelchair silently, watching them be taken away?

Charles bit his lip to stop it from quivering. He rubbed his temples soothingly with his fingertips, trying to ease the endless ache that grew there. He longed to reach out to his X-Men, just to make sure they were all right. They were all captured now he knew, with the exceptions of Gambit, Wolverine and Blaze. Kincaid was adamant that all three were together and in the North Eastern US. He had information from numerous sources and wasn't shy about boasting to Xavier, making him squirm.

There was only one thing that gave Charles any hope. As far as his own orders to his three X-Men had gone, none of them should be in that part of the world. He didn't tell Kincaid this, but he suspected that by now none of them were even in the USA. There was a faint sliver of hope that they would have joined forces with Xavier's British field operative Stifle, and were plotting a retaliation. However, it was irrefutably a slim chance.

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Mystique stood alone on the roof of her current hideout. Of course, she didn't look like herself these days. Too dangerous, everything was too dangerous right now. She was the last one left. She had no idea what had happened to her fellow Brotherhood of Mutants members. All she knew was that she had been supposed to meet with them, but none of them had ever arrived at the specified location. Not Sabretooth, Pyro, Quicksilver, Blob, Avalanche, Multiple or the Scarlet Witch. Not even Magneto, though it would be just like Eric to have disappeared to a safe place and neglected to let her in on its location.

Even attempting to gather information on what had happened was a risky business. Curfews right across the country were being strictly enforced by the military and law enforcement agencies. Everyone was indoors by nine pm if they left their homes at all. To be caught out was risking being arrested as a mutant and shipped off to one of the military's holding facilities that were springing up across every state. It didn't matter if you weren't a mutant, they'd ship you away and worry about testing you later.

Mystique had discovered that the most dangerous mutants were being held off shore. They were drugged unconscious and loaded onto vast ocean-going vessels. She'd stood here night after night watching the ships being loaded. Once she had thought she'd seen a figure she recognised coming off one of the transports. A closer inspection, disguised as one of the legions of specialist GRSO soldiers, had proved her right. It was not propaganda on all the news channels. Even after the X-Men had been dismantled, it had not been in enough time to save them.

Iceman had looked in a bad way. His right leg was bent at an improbable angle on the stretcher he was being carried on. Bruises covered his face, swelling up to enclose his left eye in a swathe of puffy purple flesh. Mystique couldn't get close enough to inspect his injuries further. She wanted to pick him up by the scruff of his neck and shake him, like a terrier shaking a rat, to make him do something to prevent him being carted off like a piece of meat. The fury burned her insides, flashed in her yellow eyes. It was time to try and round up some support. The mutant kindred needed to fight back, and for that cause she would put aside all differences.

She'd gone to Mexico on the trail of Wolverine and Gambit. She'd found them on the floor of a bar, unconscious and incommunicative. It was hopeless, fittingly and completely hopeless. Even when she had called upon her enemies in a desperate plea to end this insanity, it had come to no good. All she could do now was wait, and watch her mutant kindred be dragged off into the blackest of nights. As Mystique stood there watching the docks, she wondered how long it would take for them to come for her too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 2**

"How'd you do that?" The young man asked softly, touching a scabby looking wound on the belly of the girl besides him. She sighed, unclenching her fist against the pillow. Her curly red hair was like a fiery halo around her face. Her brown eyes were fixed on a point in the middle distance, below the ceiling of the trendy city apartment.

"Fighting Juggernaut on a New York subway train." She answered finally. It all seemed worlds away now, Westchester and her life with the X-Men. She was numb to it, due in no small part to the touch of the tactile empath she was with. When Indigo didn't say anything, Blaze glanced at him, "What?"

"You've loads of scars." He stated needlessly, touching a mark on the front of her shoulder. As happened every time the Mancunian mutant touched someone else's skin, a tattoo-like pattern started to form. The tattoos were unique to every individual. Blaze's were like henna lines, a tangle of flames, barbed wire and English roses. Currently they covered most of her petite form. She had only Indie's word that they would not be permanent. "What's this one?"

"Gunshot wound." Blaze informed him. "See the exit scar on my back?" She rolled slightly away from him, showing the much larger scar.

"I hadn't noticed that…" Indigo frowned. "You wear make-up to cover it up or summot?" Blaze nodded, rolling flat onto her back again. "You were lucky not to die?"

"Very. Professor Xavier was watching me with his telepathy. He saw what happened and sent the X-Men. His daughter Ilehana is a doctor. She pieced me back together. That's when I joined the team." Blaze's voice sounded strange to her, being totally without emotion or inflection. Indie didn't seem to notice.

"What about this one?" He asked, taking her left arm and stoking a clean, thin line from her wrist down the underneath of her forearm. Blaze felt the brief flow of emotion as the feelings that particular scar brought up leapt from her to him. "Another war wound from being a hero?"

"No, I put my fist through a TV screen." Blaze closed her eyes, concentrating on not letting Indigo or herself feel the insanity that had claimed her that day she overloaded.

"Muppet." Indigo teased, kissing Blaze softly. He seemed oblivious to Blaze's deeply hidden madness. "Let me guess, the one on your ankle is an unidentified drinking injury?"

"No, just a badly placed tackle. I used to play football for my school, a very long time ago." Blaze opened her eyes again, echoing Indigo's smile for no reason except she couldn't think why not to.

"What position?"

"Right wing. I was the best attacking midfield player in the school. Until I got kicked off the team for fighting, and expelled for skiving."

"Now you're a teacher?"

"I was. There's no school anymore so I guess I'm not much of anything anymore…" For a moment there was silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Indie stroked Blaze's stomach and she basked in the peace he brought her, stretching like a cat against the sheets.

"How do your powers work?" Indie probed eventually. "You can make things burn out of nothing, like?"

"I create and control fire." Blaze confirmed.

"You must be something mega in a fight." Indigo speculated. "Not like any of the gang. We're all just freaks, none of us is any good at scrapping with our powers."

Blaze didn't say anything as she left Indigo's embrace and sat up. Running her fingers through her long red curls to diffuse the bed-hair, she waited for Indigo to follow his own train of thought.

"I told you I'd tell you what happened to the others, wot none of us ever told Stifle." He spoke carefully as if pained. "I think they're all dead. I hope so anyway. I know I wouldn't want to live if what happened to them happened to me.

"There's a thing with ordinary humans," he continued, "That mutants aren't really people, right? Maybe they reckon that justifies it, taking mutant kids off the street and selling 'em. Some go for scientists to test on, some for work as bodyguards or target practice. There's a sport now, mutant baiting, making mutants fight mutants while humans bet on whose going to win. And if I don't look after Stellar and Carly, you know what my bonny cousins are gonna end up doing for a living, don't you?

"That's what we live with Blaze. Nobody wants us, nobody gives a toss. We're just picked off by slavers and sold to keep evil people entertained…"

After a few minutes of just staring at her lover without a way to put words together to express what she thought, Blaze finally made an attempt to articulate herself.

"Indie… Why didn't you tell me this earlier? Why didn't you tell Stifle? This… It's terrible, awful. It would have warranted a full X-Men mission to get your friends back and shut down whoever's running it, but now…"

"The X-Men are gone." Indie was ruthless. "Besides Blaze, you know I'm not very trusting. We've tried to act on our own. We know who's doing it and where they're based. But it only got more of us dead or captured, so we stopped fighting back and started hiding better."

"You know whose running the slave ring?" Blaze challenged, staring deep into Indigo's purple eyes. "Now I get it, you want me to go after these people? Because my powers are more aggressive than any of yours, or Stifle's."

"Blaze you're putting words in my mouth." Indigo sat up, leaned over and kissed her, stroking her leg until she kissed him back. "Would you though? Help us I mean?"

"Can it wait until…" Blaze began, thinking of Gambit and Wolverine on their way here right now to regroup. Indigo shook his head.

"They don't come to Manchester that often. All I know is that they'll be here tonight. Blaze if you don't do this, the gang is gonna try again. I can't make them leave it. Some of 'em will get hurt."

"Oh Indie." Blaze sighed sadly, letting him wrap an arm around her waist and resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't have a choice, do I?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 3**

Cyclops came to waking slowly. It was as though he was walking through an ancient forest. At first everything was dark and still under the canopy of branches that was his unconsciousness. As he walked the trees slowly began to thin. Light broke through where the boughs were younger and more spindly. Travelling became easier as the trunks he wove through were not so fat, and the ground not so sodden with humus.

Still the light increased, the air began to move bringing new smells to his flared nostrils that had no place in the forest. Smells of fear, blood and old stale sweat. Trees dwindled to shrubs and saplings. The light was now so bright it made Scott wince, gritting his teeth. The light disintegrated the forest and Scott realised he was awake. Immediately he wished he wasn't.

His head felt heavy and clumsy. Every part of him ached with a detached numbness, like a child protesting to a parent but knowing their plea fell on deaf ears. The old sweat he could smell was his. His clothes were stiff and creased with it. Blood made him gag. His mouth was full of it until he managed to turn his head and spit it out. So that was how he had been woken. He probed a tooth with his tongue, feeling it wobble. Then Scott decided to open his eyes and face the music.

"Good to have you join us." A man's voice spoke through a loudspeaker system. There was nobody in the cell with Scott. Presumably they were behind black sheen of the one-way glass in front of him. Scott himself was strapped to a spindly chair, bound by his ankles, wrists and across his chest. He tried to strain against it, but his muscles wouldn't work like he wanted them to. He felt drained, as though he'd had a bad dose of flu.

Cyclops wasn't wearing his shades or visor, but a rather bizarre contraption instead. No wonder my head feels heavy, he thought as he looked at his reflection in the glass. The ruby quartz strip he looked through was in place over his eyes, containing his powers. The metal frame holding it there ran in a circlet all round his skull, with struts going under his chin and over his cranium. There was no trigger, and even if he could get his hands free he would struggle to get this contraption off. He was powerless.

"Don't try and move too much." General Kincaid spoke into the microphone on the other side of the window. "You've been in an induced coma for a number of days."

"Why?" Cyclops managed to stutter.

"Its simply the easiest answer when faced with the question of how to imprison mutant vigilantes and terrorists." Kincaid answered smugly. "Not many of you creatures can operate your freakish powers when the body is rendered incapacitated. Now listen carefully Scott Summers, I won't repeat myself. I'm no fool; I know there are too many of you to exterminate every mutant on this planet. But what I don't intend to do is stand by and let you influence the running of this country. You're not human and so you don't have rights. You need to be controlled and examples need to be made to subdue the mutant population. Mutants must be made to live in fear of stepping into the open, let alone stepping out of line. The X-Men will be my examples, your executions public."

"You woke me up to tell me this?" Scott growled.

"I woke you up because I need information to proceed with my case against you, your pathetic kind, and the President. If you respond to my questions your processing and execution will be as painless as I can make them."

"And if I refuse?" Scott challenged.

"You don't want to refuse." Kincaid told him flatly, "The people of the United States of America, not to mention the rest of the world, are baying for mutant blood. Who is going to stop me from giving it to them? We have the X-Men, and they are being offered the same choice you are. Trust me, some of them are seriously considering their options."

"You can do what you want to me." Cyclops snapped. "I won't tell you anything."

"We will see about that…"

Kincaid entered the room with three other soldiers, one of whom was carrying a folding wooden chair. The other two approached Cyclops directly, releasing one arm from his bounds. Scott squirmed as Kincaid walked sedately to sit behind the X-Man. He took hold of Scott's wrist in a pincer grip, bending Scott's arm up behind his head and down his back. The General was phenomenally strong, and now he had Scott pinned in a way that would dislocate his shoulder if he tried to fight back. Pain shot through Scott's neck like electricity, crackling through his every nerve.

"What I want is simple." Kincaid told Cyclops. "The access codes for the lower levels of the Xavier mansion, and the protocols the X-Men work to."

"I'm not telling you anything." Cyclops insisted. Kincaid smirked as he replied, "I thought you might say that."

The General changed his grip, grabbing hold of Cyclops' hand and smallest finger in two meaty hands. Cyclops barely had time to register that before the pain made him bellow out loud. Kincaid smiled as Cyclops' finger went crack and popped neatly out of its socket.

"You've got nine more fingers before I find something more interesting to dislocate." He threatened darkly. "The codes and protocols Cyclops, now."

"No!" Scott gasped, "Never!" Another pop, another solid wall of pain hit Scott, making his heart labour and his breathing struggle.

"The protocols." Kincaid reiterated. "Give me what I want and the pain will stop. What would it take to roll you vigilantes into action? What strings would the President have to pull to make you puppets dance?"

"Argh!" Scott screamed as Kincaid dragged his arm down further. Cyclops could almost hear the tendons starting to tear loose from their moorings. "No! I wont tell!"

"Yes you will!" Kincaid argued. "Everyone breaks, even stubborn pricks who don't know how pointless their existence is!" He dislocated a third of Scott's fingers callously. "Tell me how to get into the lower levels!" He moved onto the next finger of Scott's ruined hand. Everything went dark and fuzzy round the edges to Scott. His ears throbbed, hot with blood that because of the pain didn't seem to know where to go. More sweat dripped from his brow. It ran down his nose and into his mouth, tasting salty and vile. Kincaid was still talking, but Scott couldn't hear him.

"Fine." Kincaid growled, dropping Scott's destroyed hand with only the thumb still in its socket. "We've time, Cyclops, all the time I'll ever need. Send him back under, I have an appointment to keep."

Kincaid must have left then, Cyclops couldn't lift his head to check. A sharp pain pierced his arm, then his eyes closed without him instructing them too, and he was back in the darkest part of the forest, dreading the next time he might be dragged out to answer to the monster called Kincaid.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 4**

"I'm sorry Ms Carter, we operate an appointments only system…"

"Look." Ms Carter, alias Blaze, demanded. "I've just flown in especially from Amsterdam. I'm tired, I'm hungry, I need a shower and I'm not in the mood for your weak excuses. I only have an hour before I have to fly to the Czech Republic, so I don't want to make an appointment. I want to see Mr Lowry now."

Staring down the minion who sought to deny her passage was strangely satisfying. Eventually the young man stumbled to his feet and mumbled something about seeing what he could do. Blaze resigned herself to wait, tugging straight the black fitted blazer that she wore. She'd matched it with black leather hipsters and a tight black t-shirt, along with black stiletto boots. She wore her long hair in a braid with fingers of curls loose around her face. The outfit hid most of her tattoos, but not all. Her hands and face were still decorated, but not even the gloopy mix of make-up she used to hide the scar on her shoulder would cover them seamlessly.

"Jacki Carter I presume?" A man in his thirties with a shaven head and designer glasses addressed her, offering a hand that she shook briskly. "Marcus Lowry. I understand you are a busy woman. Please, my office is through that door."

The office was dull and obviously infrequently used. Maybe once it had been sumptuous, but now the sash windows were drafty and badly fitted. The old decorative cornicing and ceiling rose was faded and covered with cobwebs. Plaster was peeling away from the damp-ridden walls, and the old floor tiles were cracked and full of gaps. Blaze placed the small attaché case she carried on Lowry's coffee table and sat down on a leather sofa opposite Lowry's desk. Lowry himself perched on the desk, looking down on Blaze with a quizzical look on his face.

"I'm looking for something very specific." She told him, crossing her legs and making herself appear as relaxed as possible. "I've been told you're the man to see about this."

"Interesting." Marcus Lowry commented, nodding to the minion who had followed them in to place two glasses of Vin de Pays on the table beside Blaze's case. Blaze made to refuse the wine, but Lowry only smiled. "Oh I never take no for an answer, Jacki. Indulge yourself."

Hardly able to turn him down, Blaze did as she was told and picked up her glass. Yet only after Marcus had sipped and swallowed a mouthful himself did she drink any of the alcohol herself. The wine was rich and tangy, subtly delicious. She metaphorically crossed her fingers that it wouldn't go straight to her head.

"Those are intriguing tattoos you have Jacki. Can I ask where you got them?"

"Singapore actually." Blaze lied casually, "My employer is a global contractor. I'm his PA, amongst other roles."

"I understand." Marcus chipped pleasantly, watching her with eagle eyes. "You're looking for something for your employer then? How can I help?"

"My employer has very specific requirements." Blaze warned strictly. "Boy, eighteen to twenty-one, Caucasian, taller than six foot, leanly built and with brown hair. There's only one thing, his eyes have to be somehow mutated. I need to know what kind of pool you're drawing from. This is important, I don't just want the first kid you see when you walk out the door here."

"Don't worry about that." Marcus told her. "We draw from many sources. We'll find what you want. Tell me, this is obviously a purchase to indulge a passion? Why have an imitation when you could have a perfect replica? Have you thought about a shape shifter?"

"No," Blaze replied, "I hadn't thought about that. Can it be done?"

"Jacki, with the right portfolio brought forward by yourself, my team and I can work miracles with shape shifters. Of course the cost is substantially increased…"

"That's understandable, cost always increases exponentially with effort. But if your team can prove its expertise I'm sure we can come to an agreement. How many are there of you?" Blaze fished hopefully.

"We're a close-knit business actually." Marcus informed her, pulling a laptop off his desk and setting it on the coffee table. "You've met my aide Jethro. Carmen in the room next door liases with the teams we use to monitor and bring in the right mutants."

"Are they all runaways?" Blaze wanted to know. "My employer would hardly appreciate a visit from the creature's adoring parents."

"Creature?" Marcus smiled cruelly. "I like that, though I usually prefer to call them merchandise myself. No, they are usually runaways, not to be missed by anyone."

Silence fell as Marcus Lowry was distracted by his laptop. Blaze found herself sipping the wine again without thinking about it. Only after she swallowed, tasting the alcohol as it slid down her throat, did she remember what she was doing. Not since she'd experienced Garthen Doking's powers of persuasion had she so casually enjoyed the substance that had almost killed her once. She couldn't understand why she felt so calm about it now…

"Ah, here was are." Marcus swivelled the screen around and came to sit by Blaze's side. "Just before we begin, could I ask to see some form of ID? Merely for the paperwork you understand… Oh and confirmation of funds would be a normal requirement of our meeting…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 5**

"Right here." Blaze smiled, moving her body suggestively to cover her grasping for the right fake ID. She handed the passport over, whilst opening a clamshell mobile and making a call. She spoke briskly, hoping that Marcus would believe that she really was talking to a bank. "Here you go."

"Can you confirm the funds?" Marcus asked into the phone, nodding as he handed back Blaze's forged ID. On the other end of the line, Indigo's shape shifter cousin Carly put her voice talents to use impersonating an Indian call centre operative. Funds of seventy eight thousand were confirmed for immediate release, and one hundred and two thousand to follow. Blaze prayed she hadn't been an X-Man too long, and her pricing would be accurate. It had been a while since she'd tried a scam of this proportion.

"One hundred and eighty thousand." Marcus mused, stroking his chin. "Yes, I believe we are talking in the region of what was paid for the merchandise I am about to show you…"

Marcus clicked a mouse button, bringing up an image of a weedy looking male in grey boxer shorts and nothing else. Not blessed with good looks, he had greasy black hair cut in curtains, and a face taunt but somehow jowly.

"This is Morph. We found him in the sewers of Philadelphia. Like you, the man who purchased him had very specific requirements. He desired a replica for his own entertainment. The portfolio was a challenge, but Morph took to it after a little of the right encouragement.

"The results astounded even myself." Marcus continued, "Here's an image of the template, another mutant. If you watch the video you can see Morph actually becoming the template. A practically perfect copy."

A dead man's hand closed around Blaze's slender throat, gagging her. Who was it that'd said that truth was stranger than fiction? She didn't know, but watching the images on the screen was enough to make her want to vomit. Her head spun as she fought not to let any emotion show on her face. This was too much! She'd only been pretending, using her hyperactive imagination to come up with a lie based in enough fact to fool Lowry. She hadn't expected to be confronted with the same story as facts.

"It's a remarkable likeness." Blaze tried to sound approving. "At least on screen. Was the buyer pleased? Perhaps I could speak to him as a reference?"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, he died shortly after the purchase. But Mr Jacobi was very pleased I promise you, particularly with the detail of the replica, such as the eyes. The unusual if not unique pigmentation took Morph a while to perfect."

"What happened to the shape shifter after his owner's death?" Blaze wanted to know, "Is he for sale again?"

"No, I'm sorry." Marcus smiled sadly. "This type of sale does not result in long term relationships. Hard as a mimic might try, they are never quite perfect enough. We had serviced Mr Jacobi with merchandise for experimentation for several years. Given the rate at which he ploughed through them, I was surprised that Morph lasted as long as he did."

Blaze had to physically bite her tongue to stop her from giving the game away. She'd seen Jacobi's experimentation on mutants, seen him kill innocent people because it suited him to. She'd thought all that was long over with Jacobi's death at Gambit's hands. Apparently that was not the case, and three years later here she was cleaning up after Jacobi again. The twin Gambits on the screen glowered at her, red-on-black eyes telling her she'd better do a good job. She swallowed hard, tasting blood from her misused tongue.

"Singapore eh?" Marcus Lowry had moved to one of the room's sash windows and was watching the streets outside. "Did you really expect me to believe that? We've had enough rounds with that hoodlum Indigo and his gang to know his work when we see it. Tell me mutant, just what do you hope to gain by this stupidity? Apart from a healthy price from one of my real buyers that is?"

Blaze stood too, looking stubborn as Marcus ran his eyes professionally over her body. The door to the room opened and Jethro entered, accompanied by a butch brunette who must have been Carmen. Jethro remained in the doorway, blocking Blaze's escape. Carmen approached Blaze with her arms spread like she wanted to shoo Blaze into a corner before pinning her down. Blaze ignored Carmen and addressed Lowry.

"When you get to Hell, give Jacobi mine and Gambit's best."

"A shallow threat, how original." Marcus drawled. "How you know Jacobi is beyond me, not that its of any importance…"

Blaze snapped. She'd been through too much at that man's hands to let anyone, even scum like Lowry, say it wasn't important. She pulled a similar move on Carmen as she had on Stifle. Ducking under the woman's arms she came up in a blind spot and punched she sweetly, stopping her in her tracks. When she turned back to Lowry, Blaze had called on her fire. Tendrils of orange flame danced about her body, floating in the air. A heat wave rippled from her, warping the air as the floor beneath her feet started to burn. Lowry's eyes bulged as he started to sweat. None of the mutants he'd encountered had shown power like this.

"I was the thorn in Jacobi's side." Blaze stated with feeling. "I was the reason the real Gambit wouldn't so much as work for him. I was the reason you sent poor Morph to his death. I was there when Gambit pulled the trigger on the gun that sent Jacobi to Hell where he belongs." Blaze stepped purposefully forwards towards Lowry as she spoke. When she was right in front of him, she grabbed his chin in her right hand. She listened to him gargle as his flesh blistered and burned. "Now I'm going to clean up the rest of Jacobi's mess. Like I said, tell him Blaze said 'hi'."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 6**

"You got all the cameras?" Indigo demanded of his cousin. Stellar just looked at him, tugging her blonde fringe pedantically. Indie took it that she had and turned to the returning Street and Callum, further members of his rogue gang of homeless, ragtag mutants. Both young men looked pleased with themselves. "Roads are blocked?"

"Oh yeah!" Street grinned, as Callum nodded, bracing his tiger paws behind his head in satisfaction. "We parked a couple of cars on all the roads leading down here. No one's getting through."

"Excellent." Indie praised them, glancing up to the window where he could make out his arch nemesis. "Now all Blaze has to do is…"

The explosion was so powerful all the gang hit the grubby pavement instinctively, covering their heads. Windows shattered; shards of it fell like fistfuls of diamonds to twinkle on the ground three storeys below. Flame raced through the empty window frames, lapping up the sides of the building. Against the black and purple sky the bright orange and white tidal wave was an illuminating contrast.

Masonry split and flags cracked as a sudden wave of heat slapped Indigo and the others in the face. Scrubby weeds withered and burned, scattering glowing embers to the wind. Alarms on cars and buildings rang out, but were almost overwhelmed by the roar of the fire itself. The electric power lines that fed the Metrolink tram system wobbled, warped and snapped under the force of the blast, sprinkling the air with sparks. Indigo was amazed by and equally terrified of the power Blaze had just exhibited. Like Lowry, he hadn't known mutants could be this powerful.

"Where is she?" Carly screeched, clutching Clover as the gang helped each other to stand again.

"There!" Stellar pointed, jumping up and down on the spot. "There she is! She's done it!"

Stellar was right. With the flames a volcanic background, a slight figure was approaching them at a walk. Her hips swaying, she shrugged out of her ash-covered jacket and let it drop to the floor casually. The gang were all following Stellar's lead now, cheering Blaze as a hero. Finally someone had done that they had been trying to do for years. She'd avenged their friends, and stopped the inevitable.

"Never in my whole life," Stellar was exclaiming, running to Blaze's side, "Have I ever seen anything as excellent as that!"

Blaze didn't seem as jubilant as she reached the group. She looked weary, with ash smudged on her cheeks and her outfit singed despite her best efforts to stop her powers consuming it. Indigo didn't care; egged on by the cat-calls and exuberance of the others he grabbed her round the waist and near smothered her with a kiss.

"Give her one for me Indie!" Callum teased, whilst little Clover danced on the spot chanting "Best night ever! Best night ever!" Blaze pulled free of the kiss and met Indigo's eyes.

"That was overkill." She told him softly, knowing the others weren't listening. "I let it get personal, I should've had better control. I shouldn't have…"

"It was perfect." Indigo told her, touching her skin again, soothing her. "More than perfect. You've not just got rid of their whole operation, you've sent out a message warning anyone who might try to resurrect it to leave it or else. Its spot on, I promise."

"But I nearly lost control. I could have done that without…" Blaze scolded herself with the efficiency of Cyclops.

"You can't lie to me Blaze." Indigo told her coolly, stroking her back underneath her top. "You can't tell me you don't feel amazing right now. Everybody needs to let rip sometimes…"

Indigo's words made perfect sense to Blaze. He was right, she did feel good for letting go with her powers. Better than good, she felt amazing. And powerful, really powerful… The fire in the building burned stronger, ash and sparks reaching up to embrace the pale blue moon.

Sirens broke through the moment, screaming on the air, reverberating around the tall buildings. Wide-eyed fear appeared in the eyes of more than one of the mutants. Now was not the time to be caught out in the streets as a mutant, no matter how far from America they were.

"Everybody scatter!" Indigo ordered, holding Blaze by the wrist. The other gang members just looked at him, not quite understanding as the sirens screamed closer. "Now! Go!"

They scattered, disappearing in different directions through alleyways and back streets. Indie dragged Blaze for a short while whilst her feelings were again stupefied by his touch. Only when he tripped on a broken paving slab and let go did she shake her head to clear the fog. Her instincts took over and she took the lead, leaving Indie to follow her.

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"I mean absolutely no offence, Michael, but to have us sharing cells like common criminals is degrading and petty. How much longer do you think Kincaid and his cronies will keep up this pathetic charade?"

"Mr President," Former Senator and fellow prison inmate Michael Hawley responded to his leader with a tired voice. "I understand your outrage, but I don't think this is any kind of charade. Kincaid truly means to have you and I, and our other colleagues, tried for treason."

"Michael is right, Mr President." A third man said from by the door of their pokey concrete cell. The door slid open, and the President's lawyer strode in confidently. The cage closed behind him as he perched down on one of the cell's beds and opened his laptop. "The date is set. The jury selection begins tomorrow morning. Kincaid wanted to keep it a military trial, but the legal system has insisted that as civilians none of you can be impeached as such."

"Why has it taken so long for us to hear all this?" The President demanded, folding his arms across his chest and frowning like a truculent child. "Is this all the time we have been given to prepare?"

"My department's had to negotiate extreme terms to get any access to you at all, Mr President. This trial will be as much of a façade as Kincaid can make it. He will allow us no access to the evidence he intends to present to the court. Unless we can see some of this proof he says he has of your treason against the United States of America, and the breaches of National Security you have made by liasing with the X-Men, we are going to be in very hot water."

The President fell silent, turning away and facing the blank wall as if in disgust. Michael Hawley held his tongue for a moment as the lawyer toyed with his laptop. Then Shockwave's father shook his head and took a seat opposite the legal guru.

"What of the X-Men and their students? Has anything been heard of my daughter?"

"I thought you'd ask Michael." The lawyer lifted his head and meet Hawley's eyes squarely. With that Michael felt a cold shudder wash over him and he knew the news would not be good. "They have most if not all of the X-Men. Reports have been inconclusive on that front and Kincaid isn't revealing his hand. As for the children, a large number are being held in military compound such as this one across the country. Your daughter is not amongst them and we have no idea where she is."

"Oh Sammy…" Michael put his head in his hands, not sure if he should be relieved or distraught.

"We wont know what Kincaid has planned for the mutant captives until your own trial is complete. He wants to make sure he has absolute control of the country and the military before he strikes out the X-Men."

"Then what are we waiting for?" The President questioned, turning back to his companions. "We know it won't end with the X-Men. Kincaid is a man obsessed. If he defeats us he will not stop at exterminating Xavier's children. Every mutant in the United States will become a military target. Wars have been started over much less. We must not lose this trial!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 7**

The X-Jet broke through the cloud cover like scissors shearing through the soft grey silk of twilight. England rolled out before them, dyed bronze and black by the crimson setting sun. Twisting strips of streetlights crisscrossed the undulating countryside like golden necklaces, adorning the ancient land. Pockets of light were smaller Pennine towns and villages, segregated by moorland. Larger swathes were the big towns that relentlessly marched on, merging with the cities, becoming vast urban sprawls.

Dipping down again to enter the airspace above Manchester, the jet flew over slate-roofed red brick terraces in never ending rows. Stately but neglected red brick mills gave way to scruffy industrial units and business parks. They crossed motorways that roared with traffic no matter the hour. Tower blocks, both offices and apartments, sprang out of the ground like spring bulbs. Buildings of all ages from Industrial Revolution to ultra-modern glass and steel were splattered across the skyline. The city centre closed in on the two X-Men in the jet, challenging them and denying that there had ever been green wide-open spaces.

They could see the blue flashing lights easily from where they hung in the sky. The emergency services were careering down every avenue, converging on one point. Wolverine and Gambit didn't even notice. The massive spectre of a burning building demanded all their attention.

"Think that's our girl?" Logan asked sarcastically, scratching a sideburn.

"Merde." Gambit swore, shaking his head. "Blaze knows I always find her. Why she t'ink she gotta go light a two-hundred foot bonfire to guide us in?"

"Beats me." Logan replied, "Maybe she thinks you're losing your touch Cajun. Try the comm. device."

"I did already. No answer, but the battery probably dead by now non?" There was worry in Gambit's voice, but he was trying to hide it. Logan did nothing to help.

"Maybe. Will you look at that? Looks like there's riots starting down there, and Blaze is most likely in the middle of it…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

People had streamed onto the streets from every building at the resonating blast that had been the explosion Blaze had caused. For a few moments, confusion and fear reigned as they watched the plume of fire and smoke trickle into the sky. What had happened? What did this mean? Were they in danger?

By the time the sirens started in the distance, most people had realised the blast was a solitary attack. Fury started then, and rumour. Rumours that mutants had caused roadblocks near the city centre. Rumours that the whole of the Northern Quarter was burning to the ground. Rumours that all the CCTV in the city centre had been short-circuited. Mutants, everywhere mutants were being blamed, and the crowd was becoming a mob.

Blaze and Indigo rounded a corner onto the Millennium Garden behind the Urbis museum. They intended to head for the opposite end and the train station to get out of the city centre. An angry crowd seething with false information and irrational hatred blocked their path. They had seen what had happened in America on the news. They knew mutants were to blame for all that was wrong with the world. Even as Blaze and Indigo skidded to a stop, they were already taking their anger and hatred out on a cowering unknown figure, kicking and beating the man as he lay on the floor.

"Its all gone insane!" Indigo hissed, clutching Blaze's arm and tugging her back into the shadows. "What the frigging hell is going on?"

"They've got a mutant." Blaze answered desperately, "Indie we have to do something!"

"No way! These head cases will rip us apart!" He tried convince her, and nearly succeeded. Blaze felt her any desire to be heroic rush out of her into him as he touched her.

"Don't do that!" She shook him off, "I have to do something!" She started forwards just as the emergency services screeched into the same area. She was pinned between the mob and the bank of white riot police vans. From another direction the sound of stampeding hooves pre-empted the mounted polices' arrival. Even as the riot police armed with plastic shields, helmets and truncheons marched in from one side, the horse units charged in at a parallel.

Chaos erupted as some of the mob tried to fight the police on foot, throwing missiles. Others more sensibly ran from the charging horses, scattering into the darkness. Shouting and screaming overpowered Blaze's hearing. Police dogs barked as they fought their handlers to be let loose on the crowd. Blaze called out for Indie, but couldn't see him anywhere in the press of hundreds of bodies.

Fighting through the mêlée she lost all sense of direction. She didn't know which way to turn, or whether she even had a choice any more. Panic hit her in her gut as she was pushed to the ground and repeatedly trodden on. It was all she could do to curl herself up and try to protect her head. Coward, she cursed herself, eyes tight shut. Shut up, she argued subconsciously, concentrate on your powers! A fire blast right here would kill everyone! Suddenly she was aware of someone grabbing her ankles and dragging her towards them…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well well well," Gambit and Blaze's associate Studd chuckled from the confines of his wheelchair. "What brings you out so late, eh Forge?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures my friend," The Native American Shaman shook Studd's hand with a wry smile.

"Lemme guess, Studd took off his thick glasses and polished the lenses on his black Led Zeppelin t-shirt before replacing them. "The secret government department that pays your blood money wont stand for having mutants around anymore, not with that cretin Kincaid and his bloodhounds sniffing about? You're looking for somewhere to hide out."

"Right as usual, old friend." Forge followed Studd through the techno-criminal's mansion-like house, to his secret cave of computer wonders. "With the curfews and the law enforcement officers on every intersection, I was hard pressed not to get arrested merely coming to visit you. The last thing I want to do is end up in a fight and give Kincaid more ammunition for his anti-mutant cannon." He stroked his trim black beard with his hand, his gun-toting other arm tucked neatly behind his back. The Native American mutant was as always pristinely presented, from his crease free clothes to his neat black ponytail down the middle of his back. He certainly didn't appear to have worked up much of a sweat getting to Studd's safe house. "What do we have here, Studd? Are you keeping an eye on our GRSO friends?"

"Can't help myself." Studd admitted, patting the equipment that gave him a window on the GRSO radio and satellite communication. "Its kinda a grim fascination. I know what I hear them doing every night to other mutants will be eventually what they do to me. It's not something I'm relishing. But rather than keep my head down or leave the country, I sit in here for hours listening to it."

"Are you recording the transmission?" Forge was suddenly very interested, peering round the back of the equipment to examine Studd's electronics.

"Absolutely." Studd confirmed. "If ever this blows over, there will be evidence of what happened to all this country's mutants." Suddenly the equipment burst into life, cracking insanely. Forge slammed his fist down hard on top of the receiver, which stilled the white noise. Instead the voice of a military-sounding man filled the room.

"Closing in on the Hawley girl and her unit now, grid reference X28555, mark 5655, mark 24. GRSO troops prepped, armed and ready. The mutants don't stand a chance…"

"Hawley girl?" Studd breathed, "That's no military unit, it's a bunch of school kids, Gambit and Wolverine told me! They're gonna annihilate a group of children!"

"Not if I can help it." Forge swore grimly, raising his weapon-arm in a salute to the spirits of his people. "This means war."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 8**

The X-Jet touched down sweetly at Logan's request. The two X-Men piled out, charging into the night with no idea where Blaze was, but pretty damn certain she would be near the trouble. They were striding down an alleyway, closing the distance between them and the riot when Logan stopped dead in his tracks. From over his shoulder, a male voice spoke threateningly.

"Move and you're dead."

Logan looked down tentatively, raising an eyebrow. "You call that a knife?" His muscles tensed and he released his adimantium claws. At the same moment he ducked under the knife blade and pushed his attacker away, squaring up for a fight and supported by Gambit.

"No!" A voice rang out clear in the night, "Remy, Logan, back off! Drop it Indie, I'm not messing!" Blaze stepped into the street from the far end, supported by Stifle. Dell Tucker, Xavier's British field, had been the unseen hand saving Blaze from police and bloodthirsty mob. Stifle let Blaze stand on her own and approach her teammates.

To Logan's disappointment, the young man who'd attacked them withdrew the flick knife. He passed the X-Men and swaggered towards Blaze. Gambit's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he stopped by Blaze's right side, brushing her bare arm familiarly as he muttered something into her ear. She seemed to flicker in her resolve to be angry, dropping her eyes to watch his hand on her skin. It made Remy's skin crawl.

When Blaze approached them, it was instantly apparent that she wasn't her usual flamboyant self. Pale and with dark rings under her eyes, she looked ready for a hot meal and an early night. Her hair may have been braided earlier, but now it was coming loose from its clasp. A very small close fitting top didn't cover anything, though its singed edges suggested it might have done when she'd put it on. But the biggest change to her appearance since last the two men had seen their teammate was only really visible when she got close to them.

She hugged Logan first, as he greeted her with, "Couldn't you just have got love and hate tattooed on your knuckles like anyone else?"

Blaze shook her head and went to hug Gambit, only to be pulled into a tight embrace and kissed on each cheek. He kept hold of her arms as he offered his expert opinion. "So how far it go?"

"Use your imagination." Blaze dismissed the question, pondering how far short of the mark that would leave him.

"Cute tattoist?" Was all he'd ask in reply. He's joking this off, Blaze thought, but he really doesn't like it. Before she could think of a response, Indigo was butting in.

"Cute enough, mate. What'd you come as?" The Mancunian tactile empath looked the X-Men over as though thoroughly disappointed.

"Behave yourself Indigo." Stifle threatened, joining the group belatedly. Indigo turned his nasty expression on the field agent and wrapped his arm around Blaze's waist. If Stifle was shocked to discover their relationship, she didn't express it.

"Gambit, Wolverine, Indigo and Stifle." Blaze made the introductions as quickly as possible. "Where's the jet?"

"Back that way." Logan nodded over his shoulder, then turned on the spot to lead the way. Stifle followed him, followed by Blaze and Indigo. Indie supported Blaze as she staggered, exhausted and bruised, muttering to her all the time. What he said, Gambit couldn't tell, but as he followed the couple all the hairs were standing up on the back of his neck. Remy did not like this one bit.

Blaze's progress was so laboured that by the time the jet came into view, Gambit had already passed her and Indigo. He stood on the gangway of the jet, as Stifle and Logan were already prepping for launch. The quicker they got out of here the better.

"C'mon Blaze!" Gambit hollered, a card glowing threateningly in his fingertips. Blaze and Indigo glanced at each other briefly, and then jogged the last few metres to the jet. Gambit scowled as he forced Indigo to sidle past him, before grabbing Blaze by the wrist. She wouldn't even look at him. "You alright?"

"Fine." She swore, boarding the craft. "Why?"

"You don't look so fine Chere." Gambit told her frankly, not letting go of her wrist and making her turn back to face him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Blaze lied, shaking her wrist to free her hand and turning her back on her best friend. The gangway sluiced shut behind them, sealing them in. Blaze took hold of the back of a seat as the jet pitched suddenly into the air.

"Talk to me Blaze." Gambit was stood just behind her.

"Nice weather we're having." Blaze dismissed him, gawping out the windscreen. Gambit shook his head, muttering, "Don't…"

"Don't what?" She asked, glancing back at him briefly before looking away again.

"Why you here?" He tried again, standing as close behind her as he could without touching.

"Because I take a perverse pleasure in defeating myself." She answered brightly. "Why else would I come back to where I accidentally killed my own family?" She sighed slowly, watching the cityscape fly by below. "See that down there, that's the City of Manchester Stadium…"

Gambit shook his head at her and dropped into a seat at the back of the jet. Blaze went up to the front, sitting by Indie and just behind Stifle and Logan. Gambit just watched them, shuffling a pack of cards and brooding surreptitiously.

The city and suburban lights fell away beneath them. Finally they all but twinkled out as the land rose up to greet them. The steep moorland slopes brushed with heather and tufty grass gave way to a plateau interlaced with single-track roads and river valleys. Logan took the jet directly over a deep reservoir, sending spray into the air. Stifle indicated a likely landing spot, and Logan responded to her suggestion keenly. They needed to rest, and to decide what on Earth they were going to do next.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this. Crystal is borrowed from Rasa Rainboweye with thanks

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 9**

"Leave us alone!" Iona screamed hysterically, ducking under the outstretched arm of one of the GRSO troopers. Her frizzy strawberry blonde hair stood statically away from her skull, her clothes were muddy and dishevelled as she held her palms out in front of her body to warn the attackers off. "I mean it! Don't make me hurt you!"

"Iona c'mon!" Vertigo grabbed the younger mutant by the arm, and tugged her away from the encroaching bad guys. The white-haired teen was not in any tidier a state than her small friend. Frantically, Vertigo turned her free hand on the GRSO soldier and blasted him with her power. She saw him stagger as her vertigo-inducing blast hit him square in the jaw. She didn't wait to see him fall, but carried on dragging the terrified Iona into the woods.

The teenagers had scattered as soon as they had heard the GRSO troops approaching the log cabin hideaway. They didn't know where they were going or what they were going to do. The steep slopes of the wooded mountainside had thrown up tree roots or hidden rocks, causing more than one of them to stumble and fall. It seemed as though nature itself was out to get them. The stampeding soldiers crushed through the undergrowth loudly, trying to flush their prey out as though the children were frightened rabbits. It wasn't too far from the truth.

"Over here!" Matthew Cooper, Senator Hawley's assistant who'd been in charge of the kids, grabbed Iona round the waist and dragged her into a dark hidey-hole. It was an old woodshed, still partially full of lumber. Iona squeaked her protest, falling into Shockwave's arms by default, as the teen was right in front of her. Vertigo followed them into the shed, making out that Wolfsbane, a younger girl called Crystal and the boys Berserker, Cannonball and his brother Jay. Where the rest had got to, Vertigo had no idea.

"Right kids!" Shockwave took charge as always, brushing her red and blonde dyed bangs of hair out of her face. Of all of them, the fashion conscious Samantha looked the least dishevelled. Most of them looked like they'd rolled down a wooded hillside, not far from the truth. Sam only looked like she'd crawled through a hedge backwards once or twice. "We are not going down without a fight! This is what our years of playing pranks on the X-Men have been training us for! Cannonball, Jay, Berserker; I want a Cyclops 101 on the ridge to the left. Make it spectacular. Crystal, you're with Wolfie and Iona. We are talking Wet Dog, and don't go easy 'cause they don't have claws…"

"What's a wet dog?" Matthew asked Vertigo in a subdued voice.

"It's the ceremonial hosing down Wolverine usually gets when he comes back to the mansion after a solo mission. We don't let him in until he's been drenched coz he always stinks to high heaven. Honestly, you'd think with super-smell he'd know to use deodorant."

"Ver and Matt, you're with me. It's a Wild Card all the way. If that doesn't stop 'em nothing will. Team, roll out!"

"And a wild card would be?" Matthew asked again, as the kids sneaked their way out of the shed a group at a time like miniature SAS commandos.

"Picture the scene, Gambit's come home drunk as a skunk and stinking of ladies' perfume. Ver and I unleashed can make him vomit so much he has to spend two days in the infirmary recovering." Sam grinned manically. "Its time to rock and roll!" She rubbed her hands together and headed outside.

"But the soldiers aren't drunk." Matthew pointed out. Vertigo shook her head. "Won't make any difference, Sam can make any guy vomit without much effort."

"Hey!" Sam hissed over her shoulder. "That's not true! Now get you're backsides over here!" Matthew and Vertigo grinned with the rising adrenaline, and followed their leader into the undergrowth.

"Cyclops 101." Berserker slapped hands in a secret handshake with the two brothers. "You're up Jay, good luck!"

Jay nodded solemnly and crawled out from behind the rock they had been hiding behind. He crept up to the ridge and looked over the edge. He could see the troops crashing down hill below him, but they still hadn't seen him. Typical. Jay rolled his eyes, put his fingers in his mouth and unleashed an ear splitting whistle.

"Up here bozos!" He yelled, and then gaped as the soldiers turned to look at him. The commander twitched his hands and three of the men peeled off to come and investigate the lone mutant. Jay tested the ground, ready to make his break. Just a bit closer, just a bit closer… His nerve gave and he could bear it no longer. He flung out his brown-feathered wings and launched himself off the ridge. At the same moment the three soldiers reached the top, only to be blasted from behind by Berserker and rammed by Cannonball. They fell over the edge, screaming, and crashed to the ground. Cannonball whistled past Jay, dragging the winged boy in his airflow. They crashed to the ground in a heap not far ahead of the GRSOs, got to their feet and started to run.

Cannonball and Jay crashed through where the next group was hiding, and dropped into a hollow masked by mountain ferns. The troops who hadn't fallen off the ridge chased after them, weapons charged. Suddenly they were stopped in their tracks by a savagely snarling red-brown wolf, hackles raised, teeth glinting white against a red lolling tongue. They stopped, confused, when suddenly a yell of "Now!" came from their left. Crystal cupped her hands over Iona's. Water rushed from the littler girl's grasp, hit Iona's hands and flew in the faces of the GRSO troops.

"What's good's a drenching gonna do?" Jay gasped to his brother, dreading that he was about to see the girls get massacred.

"Its not water!" Cannonball hissed, "Iona's ionising the water Crystal is producing so that it becomes acidic! See, their goggles are melting!"

It was true, the forerunners of the military attackers dropped to their knees, screaming in agony as their faces started to melt along with their masks. The girls dived into the small trench with the brothers and started crawling away through the ferns. Further down the slope, as the commander and his five remaining men left those that had fallen to 'Cyclops 101' turned to see what was going on, Sam nudged Matthew hard in the ribs.

"Your turn Matt, make me proud!" And she kissed him full on the lips. Totally bemused, Matthew lurched to his feet and lifted his hands up above his head in surrender.

"Help!" He yelled, "These damn mutants are holding me captive! Help!"

"Lame." Someone hissed from by his leg, but Matthew wouldn't glance down to see if it were Vertigo or Shockwave. The troops didn't seem to think it was lame, they charged down the hill with their faces set sternly. Suddenly Matthew felt a rumbling in the ground under his feet. Someone tugged his trousers and pulled him to the ground. It was Vertigo; she used him as a lever to haul herself up at the same time. Shockwave had gone ghostly white, her palms flat against the earth as her finger bones started to vibrate so rapidly they became a blur. Vertigo's hair caught in the breeze created as the trees started to shake along with the ground they were rooted in. White halo swirling around her, she held up her hands and concentrated.

A wave of nausea, dizziness and fear made the remaining GRSO troops sweat in their uniforms. They couldn't tell if the ground and trees really were shaking, or if it was just their imagination as they felt the full force of Vertigo's attack. One by one, they succumbed to the Wild Card, falling to the trembling ground and retching violently. Vertigo and Shockwave ceased their attack. Sam lurched upright with a whoop of success and hugged her friend. Then, dreadfully, they heard the crack.

Up above them on the ridge, the vibrations had been amplified by the natural undulations of the earth. Berserker raced as far forward as he dared to warn his friends. "Its gonna landslide!"

No sooner had he called out did the land indeed begin to slide. In a terrible rush of mud and rock, the ridge gave way bringing foliage and GRSO soldiers crashing down the hillside. Wolfsbane let loose a terrible whelp of horror, darting in to grab hold of Crystal by the scruff of her neck and leaping out of the way of the onslaught just before the younger girl was carried off. Matthew stood up beside Vertigo and Sam, all three gaping in horror but unable to make their limbs respond to get them out of the way of the landslide.

Right then, a blast of some unnameable power careered in over their heads. It ploughed into the unruly earth, splitting the mudslide and diverting it with a continuation of force. With the torrent of death passing either side of the three 'Wild Carders', they turned to see who had saved them. Kneeling on the roof of the woodshed was the strangest figure they had ever seen. Forge's eyes were closed as he beseeched higher powers, but his gun-arm kept up a steady pulse of power that did not abate until the landslide had passed and the mountainside become calm again.

"Looks like I got here just in time." Forge rose carefully, smiling. "My name is Forge. Come with me, there is somewhere I can take you that will be as safe as anywhere in these troubled times."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this. Excerpts below are from my other works 'Overload' and 'Fugitive Motel'.

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 10**

The X-Men and Indie disembarked the X-Jet, ready to make camp for the remainder of the night. Professionally interested, Dell Tucker ran her eyes over the exterior of the X-Jet, noticing without difficulty a few modifications that had been made since she had last seen it. Then she turned her steel grey eyes on the two X-Men who had brought the jet to the UK. She had met a few of Xavier's team in the past, but not these two. Both were physical, fit men. Wolverine she found to be a little wild, feral maybe. Despite this there was honesty to him that she couldn't find offence with. Stalwart, she decided, a scrapper, but trustworthy.

Gambit was a different subject. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt him judging her too. It wasn't a pleasant experience. He looked her over a little too intimately, avoiding the challenge in her eyes. Stifle didn't like not being able to work people out. Yet she couldn't say meeting him was entirely unpleasant either. Certainly getting to know him was going to prove…interesting.

"The weather is supposed to close in tonight." Stifle informed them all as they dropped the camping equipment to the uneven ground. "I suggest we camp out here for now, then make a move early tomorrow morning use the cloud cover as best we can."

"Sounds like a plan." Logan agreed, "Blaze can you fix us up with some home comforts?"

"No probs." Blaze agreed, kicking a few clumps of mostly dry heather into a pile and commanding it to burst into flickering warm flames. The X-Men set about putting their small domed tents up in a semi-circle around it. Indigo helped Blaze with hers, making it absolutely clear as he threw in the two sleeping bags where he would be spending the night. After that Wolverine handed out ration packs of mostly inedible dried food. The mutants all took camping stools and made themselves at home around the campfire that sat on, but didn't burn up its bed of heather.

By the campfire Blaze and Indigo were deeply intent on each other. Gambit was sat a way away just as he had been on the jet, shuffling cards and keeping a wary eye on the couple. Stifle felt increasingly uncomfortable in the silence that fell on them. She distrusted Indigo at the best of times. He was not honourable or heroic. If it didn't suit him to let the X-Men do what they must, take Blaze and head back to save the day in the States, he wouldn't let her go. He was dangerous, especially to Blaze. Stifle cleared her throat and turned to the X-Man who seemed to be thinking along the same lines she was.

"There's something Logan and I noticed on one of the scans on the jet, can I ask you for a second opinion?" It was a strange request. Gambit raised an eyebrow and frowned, but agreed anyway as the look on Stifle's face made him shy away from an argument.

"What?" Remy asked when they reached the inside of the jet and relative privacy. Gambit's red-on-black eyes were unnerving to meet, but Dell would never back away from a challenge. So as Gambit squared up to her, she returned the favour with her adrenaline pumping as she sensed a fight. At least she hoped that was all she was sensing.

"Indigo shouldn't be here, he's dangerous and he's bad news for Blaze." Stifle kept her argument concise.

"It Blaze's choice, she a grown woman." Gambit argued flatly, staring Dell down. "Dat all?"

"You're not listening to me." Stifle pointed out, "What he's doing to her…"

"I know what he doin' to her, I met empaths before." Gambit replied coldly. He didn't move as Dell took a pace towards him, both daring each other to be the first to break eye contact. In the end it was Gambit. He let his eyes fall to wander over her body. She wondered if he knew how uncomfortable she was making her feel. Yet she couldn't help herself, as her calculating eyes slid over him in return and found nothing she didn't like. This is ridiculous, she chastised herself, now really isn't the time for this.

"I thought you X-Men cared about your teammates?" Stifle challenged him. The muscles in Remy's jaw clenched as her comment stung. "Indigo's draining everything Blaze ever felt about anything, and you're willing to just let him?"

"You don't know nothin' 'bout Blaze, you ain't gonna tell me what she need."

"I know she killed her parents." Stifle acknowledged flatly, "I understand she has to live with the guilt and terror everyday. I can see why you'd be tempted to think Indigo would be good for her, giving her respite. Except that it's all a lie. I doubt he cares for her, and he certainly won't help us save the captured X-Men and children."

"Stifle," Gambit interrupted, shaking his head." You tryin', I give you that much Cherie. But you off the mark an' I ain't gonna even try an' explain it." She expected him to turn around and stalk off then, but he didn't. Instead he took a step closer and graced her with a soulless thin smile. She scowled at him, and at the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. "If you jus' jealous, maybe Gambit got the cure, non?"

"If I'm jealous?" Stifle scoffed, raising her chin defiantly. Yet she made no attempt to stop him from leaning in to kiss her, even closing her eyes in readiness. That was when it hit her like a sharp blade in her mind's eye.

# He clung to a memory, maybe his last as a free man. An image of a beautiful redheaded girl, asleep besides him, her breath was deep and slow. Blaze was so young, never younger than when she slept, though her dreams often terrified her. A picture in his troubled mind of his fingers brushing the curls away from her warm brow, her skin had felt so soft, so rewarding under his touch. She muttered something softy as his lips brushed her cheek, though he couldn't tell if it was sweet-nothing or curse. She didn't wake as by the moon he rose and dressed silently. He left her. To save both of them, he gave her up. He could only wish there was another way. #

# Screams. Always screaming. Pain and blood and screaming.

She sat on the outside, looking in. Watching herself screaming, sat in the middle of the floor bleeding and screaming and not stopping. She didn't recognise the people who started to come in. Except for one.

The room was trashed. Not just messy, she was always messy, the redhead. Spontaneous and emotional and messy. But she didn't usually break everything in sight. Not a usual night when the vase of dead flowers she'd neglected to tidy away was suddenly thrown against the opposite wall. Not just dead now, shattered and broken and betrayed. Like her. Books, her precious books, torn pages from spine. Furniture overturned, CD player fractured and split across the floor, CDs in pieces, tiny pieces. The TV was smashed, looked like somebody had tried to put a fist through it. The curtains billowed calmly in the wind of the open window.

There was nobody but the young woman in the room. Nobody else could have done this. She'd done it all to her own things, trashed the place and was screaming.

"Help her………" Gambit could barely whisper, his voice broken and desperate. Nobody moved, all hanging in the doorway in shock. He flipped, shouting above the screaming, "Somebody help her!"#

Stifle gasped and turned away, not knowing how what she had just witnessed was linked entirely, not entirely wanting to. It was a fluke of her powers, that as well as being able to stifle other's mutations, she occasionally caught glimpses of a person's innermost demons. Completely oblivious to the cause of her distraction, Remy caught Stifle's arm and turned her back to him. Yet Dell had the incentive now to push away the physical wants he'd invoked in her. She also had the knowledge to manipulate him to doing what she wanted. Sometimes this aspect of her mutation came in useful. It also had possibly the worst timing.

"Humour me." She told him. "So Blaze has your blessing to stay here with Indie. You think that's what's best for her, fine. I just think Indie might have other ideas. What's to stop him leaving her sleeping in the middle of the night with no intention of ever going back? Could she cope with that? With the emotions all flooding back to fill the void Indigo creates inside of a person? Or would she lose it and hurt or kill herself, with no one to come charging in to help her?"

Gambit looked at Stifle acutely, obviously trying to work out what exactly the woman knew. Stifle folded her arms across her chest and stared right back. "You a telepath or somethin' Chere?" He contested aggressively. "Sneakin' about in my head?"

"I don't do it intentionally." Stifle swore. "I don't see it as telepathy either. Do you think I wanted to know that I was about to pick up Blaze's cast-off? Just tell me, did she slice her wrist open accidentally, or was it deliberate?"

"I…" Remy hesitated. "She say it accidental. I don't t'ink she lie 'bout it."

"I'll bet she's quite accomplished at lying, especially to you." Dell stated quietly. "From what I saw the gash to her left wrist was very neat and very deep. I don't know, but if you don't get through to her somehow, Indie might just finish the work you started when you left her."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 11**

"Blaze!" Gambit ducked under the belly of the jet and hollered to the redhead who was engaged in a kiss with Indigo. "We got work to do Petite, get over here."

"What gives him the right to…" Indie cursed, glowering at Gambit and Stifle as the brunette went to join Logan. Blaze put a finger to Indie's lips to silence him, got up and went to Gambit.

"What?" She asked blankly, arms limp by her sides and shoulders slumped. Gambit shuddered at what had become of her, and turned his face away.

"Me an' Wolverine bin livin' outta dis heap too long. Before we go anywhere, we gotta check supplies…"

"So get Logan to do it." Blaze decreed, turning to go back to Indie. Gambit folded his arms and glowered, replying. "Logan don't got a photographic memory. I'm countin' on you to know what this junk supposed to be carryin'."

"Alright, fair enough." Blaze sighed. "Lets get it over with."

As they crossed to the far side of the jet, the night closed in around them. The darkness that cloaked them was riddled with dusky starlight. The sky above hummed clear and roofless. If it hadn't been for Blaze's mutant awareness of the campfire she had started earlier, they could have been totally alone.

"I'm worried 'bout you Cherie." Gambit addressed his friend quietly as they started sorting through the gear.

"Good." Blaze quipped with false cheer, thinking about Indie. "Means I'm doing my job properly." Gambit didn't respond, and so Blaze blanked him and started to route through the medical supplies. It took her a few minutes to realise he was stood looking at her, red-on-black eyes intense and unsmiling. "Qui?" She queried, breaking into French. "Ca va Remy? Tu est…"

"Why you come to England? You know it ain't no place for you. Why didn't you stay in the States with the rest of us?"

"I…" Blaze grasped at straws, turning her face away. She pulled the numbness Indie created to be a comfort blanket around her. It let her hide the truth from her friend and the father of her daughter. "Its just a mission, helping Indie and the others. It would have needed carrying out even if things weren't all pear shaped." Silence fell again, and Blaze had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew she wasn't telling him the whole truth. Perhaps a little truth would make amends. "The Professor asked me to come here Rem, I couldn't turn him down." Still silence. Blaze knew Gambit was playing her, trying to get her riled up. Trouble was it was working. Knowing what he was doing only irritated her more.

"And you know what, I'm glad I've come back. I've helped these kids with their powers and their problems. I've met Indigo…" Suddenly Gambit was facing her, though when he had approached her Blaze had no idea. Still it was obvious he was more irate about Blaze's new lover than her being in England or not confiding in him. Some things never changed.

"You don't approve?" Blaze asked in a falsely sweet tone.

"Non Chere. But that ain't never stopped you before."

"Why do you always have to disapprove of the blokes I like?" Blaze snapped accusingly.

"Because they ain't never good enough for you!" Gambit argued. "If you didn't have such a self-hate t'ing goin' you'd know that!"

"You're pathetic!" She spat back at him. "And for your information Indie's fantastic. He's attentive, he's…"

"Empathic ain't he?" Remy growled threateningly. Blaze just looked at him. "Ain't he?"

"Tactile empath." Blaze confirmed. "He has to touch, its how he brings up the tattoos too."

"Dangerous Petite." He muttered, coming closer. "How you know anythin' what you feelin' is even you? I ain't ever seen you get so obsessed with a guy…"

"I'm not obsessed." Blaze protested weakly.

"You letting him in though. You don't let nobody in, 'specially not guys you seein'."

"How is that dangerous?" She could barely put up a fight, the realisation that she'd been fooled creeping over her like an unwelcome frost. "How can it be dangerous to be with an empath?"

"You know what he makin' you feel. Your mind ain't on what's happenin', its on him. You wanna get addicted to what he does for you? How you t'ink you manage if he changes his mind 'bout bein' with you?" He was asking too many questions that hit too close to the core. Blaze couldn't answer him, but she knew Gambit didn't need an answer. Her defences were up against her friend, her arms crossed and her jaw tensed. How much of what she was feeling was real? Was she getting addicted to the numbness Indie gave her, as she had once been addicted to the same properties of alcohol?

"I can't believe he'd manipulate me when I'm with him." She said, shaking her head gently. "He didn't even like me to start with."

"Maybe he don't know he doin' it Laura." Remy consoled her, inwardly thinking that not liking a beautiful girl taking over your authority was a good reason as any to cajole her into bed. "You gotta stop it all though, you the only one who can stop him."

"I…" Blaze closed her eyes, swallowed and fell silent. She couldn't trust her emotions, yet suddenly they were swamping her so completely.

"Hey," Gambit spoke gently, and she knew he was watching her intently. His cool fingers brushed her cheek and lingered on her jaw. "Don't let him ruin you for the rest of us…"

Blaze opened her eyes to meet Remy's. Her heart stopped, her breath caught in her throat and she remembered belatedly that it took one to know one. No wonder Remy thought Indigo was using his powers to charm women to do what he wanted. Compared to Gambit, the boy was an amateur.

"Don't." Blaze moaned, but didn't move. "I hate it when you do this. What are you trying to prove? That you're as twisted as you think he is?"

"I'm nothin' like Indie." If he was offended at the comparison he didn't let it rattle him. He let his free hand rest on Blaze's X-logo silver metal belt buckle, his fingers running from her jaw to her jugular, following Indigo's tattoo marks. His eyes never left her face.

"You're trying to tell me there's no empathic tendencies in you at all?" Blaze was suddenly aware of his body heat, and she felt like she could almost taste him.

"You know I don't know what dis is. An' I ain't goin' to the Professor for him to put a fancy name on it. It better of the X-Men never know, or they t'ink I use it on them."

"You're using it on me." Blaze protested pathetically. "Why?"

"I gotta get through to you. I don't know no other way. I can't lose you to him Laura."

"Remy…" Blaze whined, not knowing if she was protesting or pleading with him. Unfolding her arms she moved her hands palm forward towards him as if to push him away. He hands brushed his stomach and instead of ending the encounter, her slender fingers encroached inside his shirt. Fingertips stroked the solid muscle of her friend's belly, each hand moving in opposite directions. Her physical guard was down, her eyes watching her hands as if their actions were treacherous. Remy lifted her face to his, eyes captivating and hypnotic. Once she'd found them, she couldn't look away.

Remy's hand dropped from her throat soothingly, brushing her curve of her breast and coming to rest on her hip. He stepped into her embrace, sliding his other hand to her other hip. The heat from Blaze's hands on his skin was making his skin blister, but he'd survived worse. Even knowing where this was going, Blaze still gasped and trembled at the playful brush of Remy's lips on hers. She pulled away, at the same time taking a grip on the waistband of his jeans. Her blood was pounding; her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. Uncertain she sought Gambit's eyes again. He made her mind up for her. With her dilated eyes on him, he did something Indigo had never done. Remy smiled, and any stubborn resolve that had been hiding in the recesses of Blaze's conscience disappeared.

This time when he kissed her she returned the gesture willingly. Mouths locked together, eyes closed against reality, Gambit pushed Blaze backwards none too gently. Her spine pressed against the landing gear of the X-Jet. She pulled him closer by his shirtfront. Gasping for breaths of cool air, her fingers fumbled blindly to unfasten his shirt…


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 12**

"Are they still messing with those supplies?" Indigo asked sulkily to no one in particular. Logan and Stifle exchanged glances. Damn this super-hearing, Logan swore, trying to ignore what was occurring on the far side of the jet. Damn the pair of them too, leavin' me babysitting the boyfriend while they…

"I think so." Stifle replied to Indigo without even a hint of discomfort as she lied. She knows what's going on too, Logan surmised. Not a slow one, this Stifle. "I suggest leaving them to it. We'll have to make an early start tomorrow."

"Whatever." Indie shrugged, messing up his hair with his left hand. He and Stifle got to their feet and headed off to different tents. Logan watched them go, then leant forward, put his chin in his hand and for a long while just stared at the fire. Eventually though, he too went to bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Indigo woke as the first light of dawn was starting to poke its fingers through the membrane of the tent. He was alone and cold, having somehow managed to wriggle free from his sleeping bag. Blaze's was untouched, rolled up by his head. There was no sign she'd ever come to bed. Slowly he sat up and stretched muscles that were aching and unresponsive after sleeping on the ground. He tugged on his shoes clumsily, and then on all fours he undid the zip on the tent's door. He emerged into the dewy mist that had descended to clog the landscape.

In the fog, Blaze's previously bubbling campfire had died to a patch of black and sodden ashes. The exterior of the four tents were covered in crystalline drops of water. The X-Jet loomed like a great grey monolith, its uppermost portions invisible through the cloud. Indigo walked through the tents with his arms ramrod straight by his sides. There were only four tents, if Blaze wasn't in his, then she had to be in one of the others. He doubted that she'd be bunking with Stifle, which left either Wolverine or Gambit. And if she thought she could cheat on him, he'd soon change her mind about that… His hand closed around the flick knife he carried, and he moved towards the other men's tents silently.

Wolverine's tent was closest. Stood at the foot of the shelter, Indigo steeled himself and focused his powers. He'd lied to Blaze about the extent of his abilities. Yes, he was more talented at reading and drawing off the emotions of others through touch. But he could still work the skill remotely if he wanted to, at least from a short distance away. He would find out if his suspicions were right, and ties deeper than supposed comradeship existed between Blaze and these strange men. If Blaze were cheating on him, she would pay. He was not above slitting the throat of a sleeping X-Man. The knife in his hand was testimony to that.

Wolverine was alone in his tent. Indie established that in seconds. The feral mutant was twisting and writhing in his sleep, beset by nightmares. Even as Indigo tired to pull away, tendrils of the dream grabbed at him, made him privy to Logan's torment. Submerged in a tank, writhing in agony, a man's face grinning at him insanely, a man named Striker. Envy over a redheaded woman who would never be his, holding hands with another man as he taught a class about a motorbike. That same woman's death, sacrificing herself to save her friends, washed away in a raging torrent of death and the helplessness that had consumed Wolverine.

Infuriated Indigo swatted the feelings away, until a woman with intense predatory blue eyes turned and pinned him with a wolf-like stare. This dream seemed to calm Wolverine, so Indie pushed down on it and him, forcing him to stick with the emotions it gave him. Pulling his power back, Indigo moved to Gambit's tent, feeling sick inside.

Jealousy spawned in the pit of Indigo's stomach, just as tension trickled down his throat. His fingers were tight like talons around the knife. Yet somehow he resisted the temptation to charge in like a battering ram with his empathy. Biding his time, he closed his eyes so eyelashes brushed his mist-dampened cheeks. He pushed his power into the tent gently, and found… nothing.

Remy was sleeping deeply and without dreams, lying on his back with his limbs spread-eagled in every direction. The Cajun X-Man was alone, his feelings muted to Indigo by layers of thick slumber like several feather quilts could effectively mute sound. Indignant at his fears being so obviously unfounded, Indigo spun on the spot. Lashing out he flung his knife away, teeth bared in a silent snarl. The blade lodged in the wet grass and stuck there like a tombstone. Still, nothing stirred.

Indie found himself walking, the jeans he was wearing damp, cold and stiff around the hem from the sodden grass. He pushed his plastered hair back from his brow and rubbed damp eyebrows on his sleeve. Running a hand along the underside of the X-Jet he left a water trail on the somewhat drier paintwork of the machine's belly. With his empathy he searched for Blaze, throwing out a net of power as though fishing for her presence.

"Looking for someone?"

Indigo nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning on the spot to catch sight of the speaker. Blaze, dressed in her X-uniform, was leaning with her back against a landing leg of the craft. She pinned Indie with an unabashed stare, hands behind her back, lips pursed. Indie barely registered her suggestive body language. He was still recovering from hearing his lover before he had sensed her. To his mutation Blaze was almost absent, a void in the night. "Blaze?" He asked softly, moving to her hesitantly. "I… Why can't I sense you?"

"I thought you said your mutation only works on contact?" Blaze challenged, already aware that he'd lied to her. He just looked at her with incomprehension written on his face. She didn't owe him an explanation but she gave him one anyway. "If I kept my powers pretty much completely subdued for years, I can keep an empath with as much control as some of the ten-year-olds I've taught out of my head."

Indigo didn't rise to the insult; perversely fascinated with the walls Blaze had built around herself. He threw his powers against the barriers that kept Blaze separate from the world around her. Whatever he tried he found them made of adimantium. Even reaching out to touch her while she just looked at him with her eyes hard and laughing, he couldn't get through. He could only ask "Why?"

"Because I want to." Blaze challenged him wryly. "This relationship's hardly been fair on me Indie. I just wanted to see if you'd still be as keen if you couldn't tell what I was feeling. If you had to work a little harder."

"I've worked hard." Indigo argued, at the same time stroking Blaze's neck gently and silently cursing as no tattoo sprung up. "You know I have."

"But you don't know anything yet Indigo." Blaze whispered, a smile playing over her lips. "I've got something that'll make it all worthwhile, I swear. You've got no idea what I can do for you."

"No?" Indigo asked, gulping. "Like what?"

"Like this." Blaze replied, pressing her lips to his and kissing him sensuously. Indigo tasted her sweetness, felt the touch of her flesh and the caress of her warm breath. Maybe for normal blokes it would be enough, but not for him. He broke the contact definitively.

"What's got into you?" He demanded. Blaze smirked, totally nonplussed as she answered, "You don't want to know."

"I came looking for you 'cause I thought you was cheating on me, but this is nearly as bad Blaze."

"Really?"

"Look, I don't like these X-Men mates of yours. I don't like what they've done to you. You're freaking out on me and…" He paused, examining her placid expression quizzically. The penny dropped with a thud. "Blaze?" She nodded slowly, still smiling cruelly. After all it wasn't the first time she'd gone with Gambit behind the back of either one of their current partners.

"I cheated on you Indie, deal with it."

"No!" Indigo shouted, taking Blaze by the shoulders and shaking her roughly. "I claimed you! I marked you! Are they blind! Can't they see the tattoos! You're mine!"

"You only want me 'cause you get a kick out of my emotions, out of twisting them and sucking them out of me!" Blaze challenged. "You're nothing but a leech Indigo! You sunk your festering mouthparts into me the same as you did the gang. You don't really care for them. You like keeping them around you because you need to be in control and looked up to. They make you feel better about yourself because you know you can make them adore you, just like you did with me!"

"That's not true!" Indigo roared, catching Blaze across the mouth with a backhanded slap.

"Then prove it!" Blaze spat back, glaring at him as she pushed him away. "Help them build real lives, not just waste their futures surviving day to day on the streets…"

"Why don't you just shut up?" Indigo grabbed Blaze by the forearms and whirled her around, throwing her to the ground. He raised his clenched fist ready to punch her, chanting "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"Make me!" Blaze snapped, steeling herself as she sat on the ground for the attack she knew was coming. Her powers were getting away from her now. Orbs of fire kept bursting into reality for brief moments around her. The flickering flames on the air checked Indigo much better than any other defence Blaze could have made. He dropped his arm, but didn't help her up. Turning away he stormed off, not looking back once. Indigo was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 13**

As she gracefully rose to her feet it dawned on Blaze not who she'd sent away, but what. That calmness, that purest of distractions where she didn't have to face up to anything. Hugging herself tightly she thought of her daughter, feeling the familiar knife blade stab her between the ribs, piercing her heart. Clinging to the pain as it breathed life back into her drained and empty shell, Blaze ascended the gangway into the X-Jet. Her bleeding heart drummed a staccato rhythm as memories of Jessica punctuated her thoughts.

Without knowing it Blaze flung open a storage locker that was nominally Scott's. No point in looking for a way to release her anguish in Wolverine or Gambit's secret alcohol stashes, no doubt they'd be drained by now. Scott furnished Blaze with a three quarters full hip flask of whisky. Hollow and cold Blaze took a swig of the liquid fire. She nearly choked as the taste hit the back of her throat. Somehow she swallowed though, going to peer through the windscreen at the mist droplets clinging to the glass. Tiredness made her joints ache, made her unable to call on her powers to warm her damp and shivering body. When would this all end? When would she find a semblance of real peace?

"That Indigo leavin'?" Logan asked behind her. Blaze glanced over her shoulder and nodded. "Good. Time to go home."

"I can't." Blaze stated numbly. "The reason I'm here in the first place still stands. I can't go back. Don't ask me to explain why."

"Bullshit." Logan told her. "Don't give me that martyred look Blaze. I'm not letting you stay here and rot in your own stinkin' misery. People I care a hell of a lot about are in trouble. Unless you an' the Cajun can come with some clever plan to save 'em, I'm gonna end up stickin' these in a whole lotta people 'til it all goes away."

Blaze glanced at Logan's claws as they slid through his knuckles. Looking up to meet his eyes, she didn't need to be empathic to see the hurt and concern in his face. He's terrified something will happen to Ilehana or the Professor, Blaze realised. She turned her face away feeling humbled.

"The fog is starting to lift." Stifle announced, entering the jet with Gambit. They were both loaded up with the camping gear, ditching it at the rear of the jet for stowing later. "If we want to use its cover from the police and the media, we need to go now."

"All right." Blaze agreed, taking another ceremonial swig of the whisky before passing the bottle to Logan. He copied her without a thought, his claws retracted again. Remy took the next turn before passing the container to Stifle.

"Isn't it a little early for alcohol?" She asked, raising an eyebrow sceptically.

"Welcome to the dark side." Blaze answered with a thin grimace. "Its cheaper than a shrink anyway."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What is this place?" Matthew asked breathlessly as he followed his young charges into the safe house that their strange rescuer had brought them to.

"My home." Studd smiled, wheeling himself through an archway and shaking Forge's hand. "Well done old buddy, looks like you got there just in time."

"Lordy," Iona mumbled, gazing around vaguely, "This is something."

"Not as nice as my Dad's place." Sam sniffed, wiping a finger over a surface as though looking for dust. "But a whole lot nicer than that old cabin. Who are you?" The suddenness with which she changed the subject made Studd laugh.

"You're a handful, bet you're the Sam Hawley Gambit and Wolverine told me about. I'm Studd, an old friend of the Cajun." He held out a hand for Sam to shake hesitantly. The girl obliged, looking confused and slightly distrustful of the cat-eyed mutant.

"You know Gambit? Have you seen him recently?" Vertigo didn't have the same issues Sam did with these strangers.

"Yes, yes!" Studd chuckled, "He and Wolverine paid me a visit not too long ago, they've gone to pick up Blaze and then they are coming right back to put all this to rights, you'll see. Now come on in kids, make yourselves at home, the more the merrier. There's plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs, just throw your laundry in the chute and we'll get it cleaned up…" The spectacled man seemed to relish the idea of guests who needed his utmost care and attention.

Matthew watched the kids all file off up the stairs, mumbling amongst themselves. They had not only managed to rescue the stragglers who had gone missing during their battle with the GRSO troops, but also a good deal of their possessions from the cabin. Exhausted by the ordeal, Matthew was quite happy to hand over the care of the teenagers into the hands of other adults. The last few days had reminded him why he'd never even considered being a teacher.

"I don't know how you found us." Matthew finally spoke to Forge and Studd, shaking slightly with his own exhaustion. "But thank you."

"Come with us." Forge took Matthew's arm and guided him to Studd's cave of wonders. "There are some things you need to see."

Matthew tried to remain calm as he was informed about the President's trial, the demise of the X-Men, the national curfews and the widespread violence against mutants led by the GSRO specialist soldiers and the National Guard. He saw confirmation that the X-Men had indeed all been captured and moved to an undisclosed 'secure location'. He learned that not all the children from the school were accounted for, but that they were still being hunted down. With no adults to protect them, Matthew was sure the prognosis for them was not good.

"We can't leave them out there!" The indignant voice of Sam came from the doorway. "We have to rescue them, its what the Professor would want us to do."

"You did good today Sam," Matthew told her, "But don't go getting ahead of yourself. You'll put yourself in danger again if you go trying anything rash like that."

"Don't lecture me Matt!" Sam snapped; negating the kiss she'd given him earlier. "Just 'cause you're a paper-pushing coward who can't even get a girl to go on a date with him! I'm not leaving my classmates out there getting picked off by some freakin' sociopaths just because there's no X-Men left to help them! And don't start that Wolverine and company will be back soon to save the day 'cause their minds will be on the bigger picture, on the President and whatever. Who knows how many kids will be dead before then?"

"The girl has spirit." Forge spoke calmingly, placing a hand on Shockwave's shoulder. "Don't worry yourself Shockwave, Studd and I are already tracking the GRSO communications. Its how we found you, and if they come close to finding the other children we will act accordingly. You will be welcome to make your contribution. I admit I have been wondering just how many more practical jokes you have inflicted on your teachers you have stored up your sleeves?"

"Plenty." Sam grunted, sticking her tongue out at Matthew as Forge guided her from the room. Matthew let her go, shaking his head and folding his arms.

"It should be Blaze taking this punishment, not me." He grumbled to Studd, "I should be sunning myself in the Bahamas or somewhere, forget that damn Hawley girl and her damned Senator father. I do not need this grief anymore."

"Don't believe you." Studd wasn't even really listening; he was intent on a computer screen and some CCTV images that flickered across it. "Now then, will you lookie at that? I am a genius! I've just got in to the CCTV footage for the Xavier Mansion, GRSO style! Say 'Hi' Professor, you're on candid camera!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Not making any money from this

**Slaves to the Cause: Scene 14**

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury," Kincaid's lawyer began his opening address clearly and concisely. He was a military man, dressed in a highly decorated uniform. His severe haircut and abrupt movements were indications of a savage, even ruthless man. From the bench besides his own lawyer, the President of the United States of America shuddered as he watched Kincaid's representative strut about like a crowing peacock. "It must be understood that what we are here to discover is not merely the innocence or guilt of one man. No one man is wholes responsible for the state of our once great nation, now fallen into the hands on mutant vigilantes and terrorists. But it must be clarified that there is one place where the metaphorical buck stops. And it is on the desk of that man."

The President winced as he had a finger pointed clearly at him. It felt like he was being stabbed. The blank faces of the jury members followed the finger, and the representatives of the nation took a good luck at the flinching appearance of their so-called leader. Next to the President and accompanied by the other defendants from the political world, Senator Hawley set his jaw and stared right back at the lawyer. This was going to be one Hell of a fight.

In Westchester, the Xavier family did as much of the rest of the world was doing at that moment in time. Professor and Doctor Xavier sat in front of the TV in the rec. room and watched the same images that were being beamed out around the globe. Neither mutant was in any doubt that the trial was a farce. It would criminalize the mutant population beyond the point of redemption. It would make the X-Men out to be no better than the Brotherhood, ruthless in the endeavour to make mutants the superior race on the planet. In the end it would irrevocably sign the death warrants for all the X-Men in custody, including the two of them.

It would also bring an end to a government that by the large had protected mutant rights, albeit without ever crossing the line to giving them full acceptance. The President, elected representative of the people of the United States, would go to jail for a very long time, if not the electric chair. The same fate awaited the men and women on trial with him, doomed because they refused to see mutants as lower life forms. The control of the most powerful country in the world would pass into the hands of a military dictator. From there, the only limit to the damage Kincaid could wreak would be his own imagination. No mutant, anywhere, would ever be truly safe from this madman.

They say there together in glum silence, watching all that proceeded without ever raising their voices to comment upon it. The collars around the Xavier necks bleeped incessantly, whilst the military lawyer mentioned evidence collected from the defendants themselves, from their offices and homes and kept secure in a top-secret facility. Evidence collected also from the imprisoned mutant terrorists themselves. The lawyer named names; Cyclops had been forthcoming it seemed, as well as Iceman, Storm and Jubilee. Members of the Brotherhood had helped out, including Sabretooth and the Blob. This trial would seal all their fates.

In the end, the opening day of the trial outlasted Charles Xavier's stamina for listening to such depressing and degrading talk. He turned his wheelchair in a tight circle and left the room. But there was nowhere to go, nothing to do. Endlessly empty corridors echoed with the ghostly memories of the children that had once called this place home. If he concentrated hard enough, Charles could almost hear them calling out to each other as they ran from one class to another. Sam Hawley moaning at an imagined petty vendetta that Blaze had against her, setting her yet another extra French assignment. Charles allowed himself a small smile. Blaze hadn't told Sam, but the girl had a knack for the language of diplomacy and the extra assignments were meant to stretch that ability.

Turning the chair round again, he could picture Jubilee, Iceman and Kitty coming back into the mansion following a training session in the grounds. They were all in the grey X-Men training gear, dripping with sweat and drinking water from sports bottles, but they were laughing together as they passed Xavier by. He imagined a door banging closed upstairs, and Wolverine chasing a group of boys down the stairs, waving his claws angrily as if they had done some injustice. The boys escaped, hiding behind Cyclops who scowled at Wolverine's aggression, before turning his back on the feral in a gesture of contempt and walking towards the kitchen…

"Dad?" Ilehana placed her hand on her father's shoulder, a look of concern on her face. Only when she brought him out of his daydream did he realise his face was wet with tears.

"I can see them." He confided in his daughter, "Almost as if they were really here, almost as if I hadn't let them all down so terribly…"

"You did nothing of the sort." Ilehana lectured him kindly. "It will work out, you'll see." But he could tell from the tone of her voice that the Vixen did not believe her own words. He glanced to the window, and wondered when it had started to rain. The sky was heavy and black, the raindrops falling so that the bounced on the windowpane and on the gravel path outside. As if knowing that her own shortcomings had been deduced, Vixen followed the imaginary Cyclops and headed to the kitchen. Xavier merely closed his eyes and wished for an end to the pain.

The End


End file.
